The Weirdness Of Words

I Am the Thing I Hate Most

*Ray’s P.O.V.*

‘What’s her problem?’ I internally rolled my eyes at my friend and waltzed (and yes as in actually dancing) over to the small, white fridge to see what goodies I could snatch off her this time. Hee, I feel like such a pirate thinking that…yarrg! Yeah, I just mentally slapped myself for being a dork, hah.

Okay, enough with the conversation inside my head, snack time! Gripping the derelict handle of the refrigerator I swung the squeaking door open in anticipation.

Unfortunately for me, I was greeted with empty shelves. Crap. Growling I pushed the door closed in disgust, will she ever learn to buy some food?

Glancing around I spied a partially eaten container of Peanut Butter sitting oh-so-innocently on the low table positioned in between couch and tv. Yay! Something to eat! Although I did just finish off a whole tub of vanilla ice cream about thirty minutes ago…

Oh-well, I swear I’m a walking garbage disposal. Curious, and wanting something else to go with the peanut butter, I went forward in my quest for snack-age. Disappointingly, I was met with cabinet after cabinet of dust and cobwebs. Jeez no wonder she’s so skinny if all she eats is peanut butter-straight out of the jar might I add, gross!

Sighing, I grabbed the jar of beloved peanuty-goodness and attempted to enjoy my “meal”. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t shake off that guilty feeling that seemed to ravage throughout my body as the thick, sticky substance heavily made it’s way into my body. Each bite felt like an evil corrosive poison creeping down my neck, along my collarbone, and into my heart. Dejected, I sat the peanut butter back where it had rested before, Katie already had enough problems without me adding to them, she at least deserves a little bit of food for pete’s sake!

With nothing else to do my mind slowly started turning and concocted ideas, a rare occasion on my part, and I began to wonder what exactly was REALLY bugging Katie. I realize she does love me and trusts me more than she trusts anyone else, but I know good and well she only tells me half the story when it comes to her problems.

If you’re wondering why I’m not going back to her closet-of-a-room and demanding she open up to me, I’ve learned it doesn’t work with her and only provokes her to build more padded walls. She’ll feel bad that she upset you and will feel guilty and selfish, if only she would talk!

*Katie’s P.O.V.*

I know, I know, it was a bit childish to stalk out of the room and abandon Rachael like that, but sadly, she’s use to it by now. I am a horrible friend, and only for my own selfish reasons am I continuing my friendship with Ray. She would do so much better without me, all I do is burden her down with guilt because I’m the one who won’t let her in on my problems. It’s stupid I know, and I still don’t understand why she sticks by me, isn’t friendship about helping each other feel better, not just on one side while the other suffers? Like I said, I’d hate to have to be my friend.

Coming back out of wallowing in my self-hate, right now I’m nestled face-down under my blankets with my arms wrapped around my pillow while my head is propped on top. I’m trying to settle my breathing back down to normal, I hate it, but I get very nervous and faint when I get upset or embarrassed. It can be over stupid things too, like now for example, getting upset just because my friend was trying to act caring by asking me what was the matter with me! Jeez, could I start a long-ass list for that question, but enough of that, I suppose you’re getting bored to tears listening to me ramble on inside my head.

Damn, now my stupid eyes are leaking their stupid freakin weakling tears! Why couldn’t I hold them in like my mother told me to? Why can’t I be stronger and be able to get over my own problems instead of relying on others so much? WHY?!?

Tired of my self interrogation I viciously rubbed the watery tracts from my face, keeping at it until I had red, ugly scratches from my teeth bitten nails. I rose up out of my bed deciding that it felt too lazy to be lying in a bed in the afternoon doing nothing but think. Accidentally I stared straight into my stained, dirty mirror. In horror I turned away as quickly as I could, but the damage was done. More liquid pain started running down my ugly mask and made its way into my quivering lips as I tried hard to resist the urge to collapse into a pile. Dammit, why did I have to be so ugly? Could I not just catch a break and be able to find one pretty thing about myself? I can’t stand to see that gruesome monster in the mirror, although, as I think about it, perhaps it would do me some good to take a long, hard look in the unclean surface. I probably need a wake-up call on how horrible I am anyways; I shouldn’t be shrugging it off and turning away from it. Bracing myself, I slowly faced the dangerous portal that could show me my true features, the ugliness of my pathetic soul and the evil sins I enact upon those innocent few who try to help me. But there’s no helping a demon, and anyone who takes a try only ends up getting hurt and tainted. Poor Rachael, I am the thing I hate most, evil.
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Sorry that it's sucky, but, as stated before, I have NO PLOT what-so-ever for this story. It's hard to figure out what to write since i was going to make it mostly about me, when I realized I can't explain some things to others. Sorry again, and apparently something is not right with my story according to Mibba's writing standards (some of which are every dumb in my opinion). So it doesn't matter anyways because no one is going to read this.